


A Song To Come Home To

by DisasterSoundtrack



Series: Kill a Liar [3]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:12:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5066317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterSoundtrack/pseuds/DisasterSoundtrack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If I were to make a comparison, I would call myself poetry for the insane. Trixie though, Trixie is all prose, but prose can sound just like poetry if you know how to read it right, and very often, prose hits you harder.</p><p>(Also known as the one with a Post-It note, an important test and learning to say goodbye.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Song To Come Home To

I wouldn't say Trixie's house is a dump, but it's pretty cluttered. I almost trip over a doormat, because it's sitting on top of another doormat, and the door won't fully open, because a coat hanger right behind it is too full of jackets and coats.

Okay, the place is a dump. But Trixie is standing in his hallway in front of me with a goofy smile on his face, so proud, so I'm not going to say that. I just smile back. We haven't spent proper free time together ever since Boston, and in Boston we've been together _together_ for the first time ever. So we're still kind of new at this. Well, whatever, anyone can learn, can't they?

I really want to learn. ''You've been living here six months, right?''

''More or less, yeah.''

''So how do you have so much _stuff_?''

Trixie laughs and surrounds me with his arm, leading me to a living room with an open kitchen and a not-so-stunning view. _It's my first LA house, don't expect too much_ , he said before. The living room is a mess of furniture, books, magazines and boxes in various stages of openness.

''I got a U-haul, come on, how do you think? Let me show you the bedroom.''

I step over a few boxes, a pair of trainers and something that looks like a dress as Trixie grabs me by the hand and leads me through a tiny corridor. We stop in front of a locked door.

''Okay, close your eyes.''

''Are you gonna murder me? 'Cause I wanna look at your face while you do that'', I retort, mock-serious.

''Just close your eyes, Katya.''

I do. I can hear Trixie opening the door and then I'm being dragged inside a room that smells like fresh sheets and something else I cannot quite name.

''You can look now!''

I've learned not to expect much from life, ever. I open my eyes to a big bed with fluffy white pillows and sheets that look completely pristine, two tidy bedside tables with lamps, an open window and absolutely no clutter, anywhere.

''This place, here I cleaned up.'' Trixie is smiling like this again and I can do nothing but take his face into my hands and place a big, wet kiss on his lips.

''I love it. You did a great job, babe.''

''Anyway, that's all yours'', he says, holding onto one of my hands. ''You must be tired after Brazil, so I can just take the couch tonight.''

It's good that Trixie was holding onto my hand, because I use it to pull the boy closer to me and then push him against the wall. ''Did you become an idiot while I wasn't looking? You're staying in this very fluffy bed with me, and I'm doing unspeakable things to you all night. Deal?''

Every time I let my dominative side show I can see the reaction in Trixie: his breath hitches, he squeezes what he's currently holding (this time, it's my waist), his pupils dilate just a little.

This guy is going to be the death of me someday.

He's nodding, leaning into me. Our lips latch onto each other and we make out properly for the first time ever since... was it P-Town? Was it Miami? I don't even remember. I mess up his hair, he licks off all my chapstick and the kiss turns into a hug eventually.

'' _Couch_. Stupid bitch. I missed you.''

''Missed you too'', whispers Trixie in my ear. ''I'm so glad you're here, you have no idea.''

''Thanks for having me.''

*

Unfortunately, I end up not doing the unspeakable things to Trixie anyway. There's a huge TV on the wall opposite of the bed, so we watch one of the early seasons of _America's Next Top Model_ and keep listing ways in which Ru beats Tyra. We eat ice cream straight out of its container and it's not like I'm sleepy, I just can't move.

''I can't move'', I tell Trixie.

''Oh! Sorry'', he rushes to get up from where he was lying comfortably by my side, with his head resting upon my shoulder.

''No, it's not your fault. Just tired.''

''Let's go to sleep then. The bathroom is right there if you wanna shower or anything. I even got fresh towels ready for you.''

''Aren't you the loveliest.'' I kiss the top of Trixie's head while Tyra onscreen is yelling at some poor model wannabe. ''It still sucks, though, I was looking forward to fucking you into the mattress tonight.''

''How about morning sex then? I know you like it.'' He's kissing my neck and I'm starting to reconsider my need for sleep.

''You know I'm a whore, I like anything.''

''No, remember how you didn't like when – ''

''Oh shut up, that was just plain weird!''

Trixie's outraged face suggests he thought otherwise. ''Seemed like a good idea at the time.''

''Trix, let's not get sidetracked. Shower, then sleep.'' I fell like clicking my nails before I realize I'm not wearing any.

*

I take a shower like I always do – for too long. The water is so warm, I'm washing everything off me, trying to quiet my running thoughts. I struggle to get shampoo foam out of my eyes when somebody opens the foggy, glass shower door. I half expect a psycho killer with a knive in their hand, but that's just Trixie wearing only black boxer shorts.

''I'm sorry, but you're in my house, so I get to violate your privacy.''

''Okay'', I say carefully, aware that I'm naked and on display. Trixie doesn't mind though; he steps into the shower and crowds me against the wall, all hands and lips, getting wet, not caring. We kiss under the running water and it's doing very interesting things to me. I'm dead hard in like 40 seconds. Of course, Trixie notices.

''That's what I'm talking about.'' He drops to his knees, hands hovering over my hips, skimming down and then back, where they rest on my ass. My dick is basically just begging for it at this point when Trixie licks it, from the base to the very top, slowly, looking up at me.

Fuck.

''Oh my God'', I manage. ''Just – please, Brian, please.''

''I know, right?'' He swallows me whole. I can feel my knees weaken when his mouth starts moving in repetitive motions up and down my cock. I know he's really good at this, but I almost forgot. All of our Skype sessions was just me, my hand, and sometimes a dildo. Now I can have the real thing.

Trixie's hair is absolutely, entirely wet when I run my fingers through it, trying not to come just yet. It's good that the water is still running, maybe the neighbors won't hear me moaning.

And then he does that thing with his tongue, my tip touches the back of Trixie's throat and I'm sure the neighbors are alert and awake, if they haven't been before. I'm spilling my release and Trixie swallows everything, even though we are in the shower.

Fuck, I've chosen well. But did I ever really have a choice?

He looks up at me where I'm still leaning against the wall, weak and worn out, and says, ''Welcome to Hollywood. Enjoy your stay.''

And then he just leaves me there.

*

In my dream, I relieve the moment of Trixie picking me up at the airport. My suitcase was literally the last one that emerged, so I was pissed off, anxious and tired before I stepped into Arrivals. I scanned the crowd and it didn't take long before I noticed a glittery, red cardboard sign with _Russian hooker_ written in beautiful cursive.

Trixie was holding the sign, visibly nervous, not seeing me yet, pacing in place, and my heart started fluttering. I needed to be closer. I don't think I'll ever forget his face lighting up when he noticed me.

All of my anger and anxiety evaporated when I was getting hugged until I was out of breath and kissed all over my face.

"How was your trip? Are you alive? Tired? Got all your luggage? Hello."

"Hey", I said, not answering any questions, just nodding into Trixie's arm, still not letting go of him. "Your hair's really grown."

So this is my first serious relationship. It's with a person almost 10 years younger than me, another drag queen, my newest best friend, and it's defined by airport hellos, goodbyes and the amount of time we're spending away from each other. This is my first real relationship and it feels draining, painful, vivid and amazing.

And when Trixie reaches out for me in the middle of a night to press a half-conscious kiss against my lips and cuddle against me like a little spoon, it feels real like never before.

*

I wake up in a cold, empty bed, so it's like every other morning and it takes a few good seconds before I remember I'm at Trixie's, and he's supposed to be here, in this very bed, with me.

I throw on a pink robe I've found yesterday in the bathroom and embark on a journey to the kitchen. There's nobody there. I check the living room and a second bathroom (it's got an awesome bathtub; I make a mental note to use that later), empty as well, except for the clutter. This is when I notice that the door leading to the backyard is open.

The backyard is microscopic, but there's still some soft green grass and wicker furniture, and Trixie in his yoga pants, bending and stretching, apparently doing something between yoga, pilates and sun worship.

''I like the way your ass looks from here'', I say, and he turns to me, unphased, a smile on his face.

''Well, it looks amazing from everywhere, so I can't say I'm surprised. Morning. Looking great, by the way'', he winks, and I pull on the sleeve of my obnoxious pink robe.

''Why weren't you with me when I woke up? I was kinda looking forward to waking up next to you.'' I realize I sound too sincere as soon as the words come out, but I can't take them back now. ''It's my two cents.''

''Well, I was waiting for you to wake up for ages, so I got hungry, went to a bakery and got us scones. You wanna eat? There's coffee, too, and it's really nice outside.''

''I'm just gonna grab my smokes, be right back.''

The scones are fucking delicious, the weather is delightful and I could get used to that, so I have to make sure I don't.

*

The VIP section at Micky's is tiny and smoky from all the weed. I might be getting a little high just from the secondhand smoke. Trixie, across from me, as a pedestrian boy dressed in black, is sipping on his colorful tall drink through a hot pink straw. Willam Belli is a beautiful miracle right next to him, blue eyeshadow sparkling on his eyelids.

"You only WeHo once, Katya. So don't even tell me you guys are not going. You two can bang it out later", he points at Trixie first, then at me. "Court's gonna be out in five, and I already called Alaska. You gotta meet Warner, he's a real party animal."

"Your dog?"

Trixie looks at me and rolls his eyes, smiling. I can't believe we still haven't fucked, because I'm ready to go right here, right now. But you can't say no to the AAA Girls, apparently, especially if one of them is your showmate of the night (for me that would be Courtney).

"Guuuuys! That's so lovely to see you here! I told you that already, right? Let's go, let's go! Anthony's waiting outside." Courtney is red in the cheeks, enthusiastic as always, and her lipstick is smeared. Her and me were the only ones performing tonight, so I have no idea why Willam is in drag as well. I don't have a chance to ask though, because I'm being hauled to the parking lot through the crowded club. I can feel Trixie grabbing my hand while we go, so I hold onto it.

It's good that you only WeHo once, because WeHo might be too much for me to handle.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. I can still feel the leftover tiredness from Brazil. Willam's house is big and pretty, just like his dog and his assistant, Anthony. Alaska, Adore and Shangela come over, along with some people I don't know, there's booze I don't drink and poppers I don't take, but when somebody orders pizza at 3 in the morning, I fight for the last piece. Trixie is drinking, switching between people and conversations with ease, stopping by to give me a kiss on the cheek every once in a while.

At 5 AM, somebody makes us slowdance.

Alaska and Courtney are asleep on a couch in a mess of limbs, Shangela is on the floor desperately trying to wake up Warner, who gives absolutely no fucks, and I'm on my fifth Red Bull, feeling my heartbeat in my throat. I'm still in my leftover drag make-up, but I've lost my lashes a long time ago, and I'm wearing an oversized Trixie Mattel white tank. Trixie himself is talking to Adore in the middle of a room while I listen, trying to blink the sleep out of my eyes. Somebody turns up the music, it's a Sam Smith song, _I'm Not The Only One_ , somebody (I suspect Willam) pushes Trix and me closer together and yells, "This one's for you! Now dance! And make out, goddamnit!".

"My lady, shall we...?" laughs Trixie, taking my hand and leading me into an open space of the living room. First we make a show of it, bowing, twirling, really working our bodies, before we press very close together and I can feel Trixie's heart beating through layers of fabric. I don't want to be even an inch further away now. So we turn, slowly, holding each other as close as possible. Our cheeks brush, his stubble against my thick make-up and I can't resist the feeling any longer, I capture his lips in a long, tender kiss. Trixie tastes like booze, but other than that, he tastes just like home.

"This better not end up on youtube", he tells me, and I chuckle as the song ends. Alaska and Courtney are still asleep, the rest is fighting about who should go out and buy more food and drinks. Willam is not even in the room anymore.

"You wanna leave?" asks Trixie.

"God yes."

"Good, because I called us a cab ten minutes ago."

*

Before we get to Trixie's house, it's bright outside. As soon as the door closes behind us, Trixie pushes me against it and starts kissing me. It's a different kiss than the one at Willam's party; this one is hungry, raw and sexual. I am gasping for air, pushing one leg between both of Trixie's, feeling him swell with a swift touch of my hand.

"Go wash your face", he orders.

"Okay."

"Then go."

"You're kind of not letting me", I say, trapped between the door and Trixie's strung out body.

"Fuck. Sorry. Go fast, okay?"

I disappear in the bathroom to wash off my make-up in record time. Before I exit, I get a revelation to take all of my clothes off and leave them behind. Tight, sparkly black leggings and a Trixie tank land on the floor, followed by underwear.

Turns out, Trixie had the same idea. He greets me in his birthday suit.

"Hello there", I say.

"Hi, gorgeous."

We all but run into each other's arms and tumble to the bed. Trixie immediately rolls on top of me and starts kissing my neck.

"Katya?"

"Yes, babe?"

"I really wanna fuck you. Can you let me?"

His words make me blush like crazy. Our warm, tired bodies are touching everywhere except the most important place and I'm more than ready for them to touch there, too.

"I'd be honored."

Trixie, kissing a trace down my neck, chest and stomach, gets his lips on my dick. I am pretty sure nobody in the world gives better head, even when they're drunk, sleepless and perhaps a little stoned. My hands fly to his hair immediately, my toes curl, but after a short while he abruptly stops and climbs up, lying on top of me again, face to face. Our hard cocks touch and I have to stop myself from riding my hips up for friction.

"I missed you, Brian. Missed this. Missed us", he says, and I remind myself to keep breathing. I'm not sure I deserve him in my life. "I think we should get tested so that we could ditch the condoms. What do you say?"

I want to say _I have been faithful to you ever since that Chicago night when nothing happened, you messed me up beyond repair, I will never be alright again._ "Let's do it. Okay."

"Tomorrow, then." Trixie presses a kiss against my parted lips, then searches for lube and condoms in the nightstand. "Now, I'm gonna make you see stars."

It's a semi-drunk quickie in bed with my boyfriend, but I wouldn't exchange it for an entire night with hot Latino hunks, plural intended, or Hugh Jackman. When Trixie tops, he takes no prisoners. He makes me take it, and when I scream of pleasure and pain, walking that wonderful line, he gives me his fist to bite on, and looks deep into my eyes, a solemn expression. He remembers to jerk me off, although I hardly need it anyway, and I swear I come right when he kisses me, his thrusts becoming fast and messy, seconds before he spills as well.

He's worn out. I take care of the condom, tossing it in the garbage in the bathroom, wash cum off my body, and I catch a glimpse of my own face in the mirror. I am done for good.

Trixie is almost sleeping, soft and tired, naked on top of the covers. I pull a blanket over both of us, the air slightly cold, and we cuddle, limbs tangling comfortably. We are face to face on a single pillow.

"Remember, ages ago, when we just started being friends, we would talk a lot."

I nod. "We still do."

"Yeah, but remember when I told you how sex never felt enough for me? Ever since I was eighteen, I always felt disappointed with it, like there should be something more. Like it was incomplete somehow. Remember?"

I have no idea where he's going with this, but he speaks quietly, caressing my knuckles with his thumb.

"Yeah, I remember."

"It feels complete with you."

*

_Went rollerskating. Gonna get some food too.  
You need your beauty sleep!_

_I love you ♡_

_B._

 

A pink Post-It note is staring in my face when I want to leave the bedroom, explaining why I woke up alone for the second time in a row. I read the note again before I rip it off the door and fold it neatly in four.

It's 2 PM, so I take a shower, get dressed and wait for my man. He comes back an hour later with boxes of Chinese.

"Katya! Please tell me you're awake?" He peeks into the bedroom to find me lying down, watching CNN.

"I am! Awake and hungry. You better have gotten me beef with broccoli!"

"Who do you think I am, a moron? Of course I did."

We devour our meals in the kitchen, sharing vegetables, trading stories and anecdotes, until I can't hold what's bugging me in anymore.

"I found your note when I got up."

"Good, you were supposed to."

"Did you mean that?"

It's not the first time we're trying to have a serious conversation over food. Trixie frowns.

"Well, I did went out to skate. And I got food. And you needed to rest."

"That's not what I'm talking about." My heart is about to explode. Sure, we've said ''I love you'' before, but it meant _You're my friend, you're super important in my life, I care about you a lot_ , not _I'm in love with you._

"I know pretty damn well what you're talking about. And I did mean that, too. I do love you", he pauses, not smiling even a bit. "It's not a big deal unless you make a big deal out of it."

I put down the fork and sit down on the floor next to Trixie's chair. He turns to me, leaning, takes my hands. "It is a big deal, Bri. You can't drop something like that on me and then tell me it's not a big deal!" I'm trying not to scream, but it's so hard to hold everything together. Something is going to blow up, and soon.

"I just... I thought that was obvious. We're together. We sleep together and you've seen my face when we do, right? We jerk off on Skype, and I asked Willam to play that Sam Smith song yesterday. I'm in love with you, Brian, head over heels."

Three deep breaths.

"Come here, Trix. I have to fucking hold you."

I all but drag him to the floor, where he kneels in front of me, and we fall into each other's arms. I bury my face in my boyfriend's dark hair.

"Anybody expecting us today? Any parties to show up at?" I ask, hoping he says no.

"No. Only the clinic for our HIV test."

"Okay. Because I'm going to spend the rest of the day, and night, having amazing sex with a guy who's in love with me, and I love him too, you know."

Trixie ends the hug to look at me. There are tears in his eyes, but I'm not going to comment on that.

"Who's the lucky guy?"

"Meet me in the bedroom and I'll show you."

*

Trixie says, _I remember when love used to taste like disappointment._

Trixie says, _it doesn't anymore. Not yet, at least._

I tell him, _I remember when life used to taste like disappointment._

*

I am telling myself I'm not afraid. I'm not nervous, why would I be? It's only an HIV test and I doubt it's going to come out positive. But still, I can feel my hands shaking slightly while I sip on a giant, colorful virgin cocktail, something fruity and sweet Trixie got me. We're sitting by a miniature table on a patio overlooking the beach, on tall bar stools, because Trixie didn't want to wait for the results at the clinic. They said it might take half an hour up to 45 minutes, so we just went to get cocktails.

I check my phone – fifty minutes have already passed and it doesn't look like we're about to leave. We've just started on the gigantic, sugary monstrosities.

''Katya, you okay? You're shaking.''

''I'm not shaking, don't be silly.''

Trixie reaches across the table for my hand. ''Calm down. I'm sure we're both clean. Enjoy the moment. We're in LA, it's beautiful, it's warm, we're dousing ourselves with sugar, relax.''

I scratch my head. ''It's hard to relax when I might be slowly dying, can we please just go, Bri?''

''No. I paid like 30 bucks for these.'' Trixie sips on his drink, accentuating the point he's trying to make. ''But I can call them.''

''You can? Please! Please call them.''

I jump off my stool so that I can move it and sit next to Trixie, holding his hand tight, too tight probably, while he's making a call. ''It's gonna be fine'', he whispers to me, before somebody picks up on the other end of the line.

So I've been through many patches you could call rough; sometimes it got so dark I had to squint really hard to see the tiniest sliver of light. Sometimes, there was no light at all. Somehow I've made it to a place where I'm in Hollywood, having something resembling a career, sipping on a drink with a guy I could've only dreamt about before.

I am aware of all of this. Yet, my hands are still shaky and sweaty when Trixie says ''Okay, thank you very much, bye'', and turns to me with a smile on his face. ''There, you trainwreck. We're both negative. Technically, they're not supposed to share information about other people, but the nurse remembered we came together and gave me your result too. We still have to swing by the clinic to pick them up. Whoa, easy, I can't breathe!''

I'm hugging all the air out of Trixie, yelling ''Bitch!'' out loud, and people might be staring, but I don't care at all.

I am happy. I am alive.

*

I hate goodbyes. Always hated them. I never told anybody that, but each time I see somebody off at the airport, or somebody sees me off, I feel down for three following days.

I really hate saying goodbye to Trixie. I don't even mean the actual word, _goodbye_ , that comes easy. I mean everything that comes with it. The _be careful_. The letting go of his hand. The half smile he's going to give me before I go to TSA, the last prolonged hug, the last hurried kiss, the last wave of hand. The knowledge that we're going to see each other again, but not being sure when yet.

Trixie doesn't know it yet, but I booked an early flight and I'm going to escape early in the morning, before he wakes up.

This is my goodbye, and the way I'd rather say it every time: with my hands, touches of my lips, with moans and our clothes painting Trixie's bedroom floor. We don't have to hurry, but still we do.

There is only lust, pure uncovered want, and three words, eight letters, whispered between pillows.

If I were to make a comparison, I would call myself poetry for the insane. Trixie though, Trixie is all prose, but prose can sound just like poetry if you know how to read it right, and very often, prose hits you harder.

The light in the bedroom is electric blue and red. Something's happening in the house on the other side of the street and the cops arrived. Trixie looks pale in the flashes, gorgeous, warm and mine, and I take it all in, every tingling nerve, every sound, every smell, the scratches on my back, the way his fingers tangle with mine when he comes. A yelp runs out of my throat afterwards and he holds me close, rocking me against his chest, and saying, ''You're okay, we're okay, fuck, Brian, oh my God. You wanna go to the beach?''

''What?'' I laugh through my shortness of breath.

''The beach. Let's go, okay?''

*

People are not broken.

People are the way they are because life drags them through all the mud and dirt in the streets of their towns, and then leaves them behind to collect themselves.

People are also not magically fixed and healed by the presence of a certain person in their lives. Sometimes, people are just in the light more. They glow: on themselves, on others.

Trixie and I, on the beach, hands joined on the sand, are in each other's glow. In this immortal moment, we feel like we're immortal too. Infinite. Like we'll never die.

Someday we will, but that's okay.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out way more angsty than I expected. I would love for you to hit me up in the comments or on samrull.tumblr.com to tell me if you enjoyed it. 
> 
> If you want me to keep writing these two and perhaps want to give me some ideas, I'd love to talk!


End file.
